


We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet

by actuallyfeanor



Series: Fëanorian Short-Stories [4]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: AU where all the Fëanorians are let out of Mandos, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Auld Lang Syne, Chemistry, Depression, Explosives, Father-Son Relationship, Fireworks, Fourth Age, Gandalf's Firework Displays, Gen, Good Parent Fëanor, Guilt, Hopeful Ending, Hugs, I'm bad at geography, New Year's Eve, Not Canon Compliant, Regret, This too shall pass, Tirion, Valinor, at this point I'm adding tags just for fun, but it doesn't contradict a whole lot of canon either, kinslayings and their consequences, robert burns, so did Fëanor, things will be ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:15:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22072387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/actuallyfeanor/pseuds/actuallyfeanor
Summary: Fëanor is let out of the Halls of Mandos and struggles to find his place in Valinor as everyone else is preparing for the New Year's Celebration.
Relationships: Curufin | Curufinwë & Fëanor | Curufinwë, Fëanor | Curufinwë/Nerdanel
Series: Fëanorian Short-Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1282313
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77





	We'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet

**Author's Note:**

> I have taken the liberty of inventing a kind of New Year's celebration for the Noldor in Valinor, for the sole purpose of translating those New Year's Eve emotions into Tolkien's universe. Tirion probably isn't as close to the sea as I'm pretending it is here. Oh the things we do for dramatic effect. The chemistry terminology is borrowed from our world because I'm not entirely sure about the Quenya word for strontium.  
> The title of the story is from "Auld Lang Syne".

The churning sea, grey in the dim morning light, rolled in towards where he sat on the rocks, staring off towards the eastern horizon. He had wanted to be alone today, to escape all the people busy with party preparations, and so he had headed for the shores of the sea. Being reembodied took some time getting used to; often he would catch himself feeling his own pulse or flexing his fingers and watching the tendons on the back of his hand shift under the skin, simply to convince himself that it was real.

The physical aspects were not the hardest part, though. The stares, the scowls, the thinly veiled hatred; he had been prepared for something like that, especially from the Teleri, and yet the full extent of the hostility had taken him by surprise. Even in Tirion, even amongst his own people, he felt like an outsider. Tolerated, but not accepted. Thus he preferred the solitude of sea and sky to the company of others, including his own family. His sons were distant when he spoke to them. Too much lay between them, the pain he had caused a gaping wound, a rift in the fabric of the life they once had together. As for Nerdanel, he had barely seen her since his return. Partly because he did not think he could bear to have her look at him the way everyone else did, and partly because he had no idea what he could even say to her.

Life seemed, at times, just as bleak as death had been.

So lost in thought was he, that he barely noticed the footsteps approaching, until a light touch on the shoulder startled him back to reality.

"Are you alright?" Curufin sounded weary.

Fëanor kept staring out to sea. "Are any of us alright?"

"Good point." Curufin folded up his cloak on the rocks before seating himself cross-legged on it. "Nobody spat at me in the streets yesterday though. I do consider that an improvement."

He felt a spark of anger flare up somewhere in the grey nothingness. "Who spat at you before that?"

"People. Eru knows I deserved it."

What his sons had done for the sake of the Oath … yes, Fëanor could well understand why someone might direct their anger towards them. At the same time he would gladly take all the blame upon himself if it meant that they could walk the streets in peace. His sons had stayed loyal to him far beyond what he had any right to expect of them.

Fëanor put his arm around Curufin's shoulders, remembering the child he had once been, full of life, eager to learn everything he could about the world around him.

"You deserved a whole lot better than this."

And just like that, Curufin's composure crumbled and Fëanor found himself kneeling next to his son, holding him tight, as if only the strength of his arms could contain the sobs that shook his entire body. They stayed there, clinging to each other like drowing sailors in a storm, until the tide came in and threatened to drench them in icy seawater.

Gathering up his cloak and wiping away tears, Curufin seemed to suddenly recall what had brought him there in the first place.

"I was supposed to tell you, Olórin wanted your help with the fireworks. Something about delay fuses not working properly."

Fëanor too got to his feet. "Why don't you come along? It has been a while since the last time I tried my hand at pyrotechnics, I might need some assistance."

***

When darkness fell, they gathered on a hilltop to watch the fireworks. Together, Fëanor and Curufin had figured out the problem with the fuses, and had spent the rest of the day measuring out the metal salts - copper for blue, sodium for yellow, barium for green and strontium for red - and carefully arranging the stars in their shells to paint trees and waterfalls of colour across the sky.

Olórin lit the fuse, and soon the first flower of red and green bloomed in the night sky. More blossoms followed, showers of gold rained down from above, silvery stars crackled and burst. Next to him, Fëanor heard Maedhros compliment Curufin on how he had rigged an explosion that produced a series of interlocking rings of blue sparks. And through the crowd, Fëanor spotted Nerdanel, watching the firework display with an expression of pure delight. Almost as if she could feel his gaze upon her, she glanced towards him and their eyes met. Then she gave him the faintest of nods, almost imperceptible, but it made his heart leap with joy.

There would be time later for talking, for making apologies and amends, for new inventions and creations, for new paths to tread. Right now, nothing else mattered except hope. That what was broken could be remade. That change would happen. That every new day would bring him one step further away from death and darkness, and back into the light.

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year! We'll take a cup of kindness yet, for auld lang syne.


End file.
